Ever Think of Asking Politely?
by OughtaKnowBetter
Summary: Wherein our heroes learn the value of courteous questions. Speaking of which, anybody like it?


Ever Think of Asking Politely?

By OughtaKnowBetter

            Greece had to be the most beautiful place in the world.

            At least, that was the thought of the tow-headed man sauntering alone down the dirt road, inhaling the fresh spring air laden with the promise of a bountiful harvest after a fruitful summer. Warm sunshine shone down on his back with just enough of a breeze to prevent it from becoming too hot. There were broad fields to either side of the road, birds chirping at each other from the occasional tree and ahead of him he saw a pair of squirrels scamper across the road after each other.

            There was only one thing that would have made this scene better. Well, two things, actually, but since there were undoubtedly fair maidens in the town up ahead, Iolaus could do without them for the moment. No, the one thing that was needed here was the company of his good friend, Hercules. 

            His life had never been the same since he'd met Hercules. Adventure, fighting, doing good; these were all things that came naturally to the son of Zeus, and Iolaus found himself doing them alongside the demi-god. And it felt right. He could sleep peacefully at night knowing that the world was just a bit better off for what he and Hercules were doing and when it came time for Iolaus to take that final voyage across the River Styx to live with Hades in the Underworld—well, it wouldn't be with any regrets.

            Iolaus planned to meet up with Hercules two towns over. They'd separated briefly; Hercules had wanted to spend a bit of quality time with some Olympian childhood friends, and Iolaus thought that spending that same bit of quality time with some old hunting buddies from way back would be a better way to while away his own hours. Nymphs and satyrs were all right in their own way, but they tended to enjoy teasing mortals unmercifully.

            This present town that he was coming upon looked like a good one to walk through: be polite to the local merchants and the local damsels, buy a beer or two, then amble right on through. Right time of day, too; just after the noon hour. He'd have enough time for that beer and a bite to eat that he didn't have to cook for himself, yet still enough light that no one would think it strange that he didn't tarry for the night.

            Iolaus passed several homes on the road into town, walls daubed with mud to patch up the holes and roofs thatched to keep out the rain but with the straw straggling down to the ground below. The fields surrounding the houses were blighted, as though some pest had crawled in to make a home in the crops. The marketplace too demonstrated few signs of prosperity, with signs hanging from but a single corner and paint applied so far in the past as to be unreadable. The fruit stand boasted meager fruit with wormholes, a nicety that Iolaus couldn't appreciate after some of the places he'd been to recently. Obviously the work of the pests that had attacked the nearby fields.

            The place was downcast. People walked around with eyes fixed firmly on the ground, heads bowed. There was none of the usual chattering and laughter that Iolaus would have expected from any other town, even one that had temporarily fallen on hard times. This was truly a miserable place to be.

            He stopped an elderly man. "Excuse me, sir, but what's going on here? Why is everyone so unhappy?"

            There wasn't even enough energy in the man's eyes to be angry at the interruption. "You must be new in town. Haven't you heard?"

            "I wouldn't be asking if I had."

            "We're cursed," the old man replied. "Everyone is dying."

            "Dying! From what?"

            "The curse. Didn't you hear me say that we're cursed?"

            "Who cursed you?"

            "The gods," the old man said gloomily. "Hera, the old cow god."

            "Hera isn't the goddess of cows. Peacocks, yes; cows, no."

            "She is now," the old man said. "We can't stand her. Put her in charge of cows, since they're dying off, too. Might as well. Whole town's dying. All the fields are going brown, chickens can't even get up enough gumption to cackle." He took a closer look at Iolaus. "You look pretty healthy. Get yourself over to The Rooster's Tail Tavern. There's a council of war going on. We have to get to the amulet before anyone else does."

            "Amulet? What amulet?"

            "I dunno. We just call it the amulet. Got a better name for it?"

            Iolaus ignored the question, and posed one of his own. "This amulet will cure you?"

            "Wouldn't be making such a fuss over it if it didn't, sonny. Move it, now. Hustle. Got no time to waste."

*          *          *

            The Rooster's Tail Tavern looked much the same as every other tavern that Iolaus had been in, though with a more than ample supply of dirt. A rough-hewn plank over two barrels served as a bar and the barkeep wore a greasy apron that once upon a time was white but now only aspired to brown after a thorough washing. The fire in the hearth was banked low in honor of the upcoming spring but Iolaus was still grateful for the warmth it sent out into the large room. He sidled closer to the stones.

            The old man had been right. The men and women of the town were clearly ill and dying. Several of them right here in this room, eager to do battle to acquire the amulet they needed, could barely sit their stools and keep their heads up.

            Eyes hungrily fastened on Iolaus as he entered the great room. The speaker paused in his words. "You. Stranger. What is your business here?"

            "Just passing through." Iolaus motioned to the barkeep for a brew. "I've no quarrel with anyone here."

            "Do you favor Hera?"

            Iolaus almost choked on his beer. That particular goddess, having no love for his friend Hercules, had tried to kill the pair of them on more than one occasion. Something to do with Hercules' father, Zeus, having an affair with Hercules' mother. Who wasn't Hera. But… discretion was sometimes the best path to take. "I try to keep out of the way of all the gods as much as possible," he finally said, honestly if not exactly accurately. _It's not my fault if the gods coming looking for Hercules, and I happen to be standing next to him_.

            "We have need of someone who is fleet of foot and strong of back and not afraid of a battle," the speaker said. He was an older man, past his prime but still strong enough to lead this village, a man with an honest face from honest toil. "We haven't much to pay you with, but we will offer what we have."

            Iolaus' heart went out to them. This was exactly the type of people that Hercules and he would help at the drop of hat. Of course, it would have been better if Hercules were here to help with the hat-dropping, but Iolaus could handle it by himself until the big guy came along. Hercules was expecting him at the next village down the road, but when Iolaus didn't show up, the son of Zeus would mosey on down this way to investigate and then would pitch in to help. Win-win situation, with the added benefit that Iolaus wouldn't have to walk all the way to the next town.

            "Put your money away," Iolaus said. "I'll help. What do you need me to do?"

            Getting the amulet for the village turned out to be an amazingly straight-forward task. There were actually two amulets that could cure them. The first was located inside a cave with a ferocious and hideous monster guarding it day and night. Everyone who had gone up against the monster had never returned, and several had tried in the last few weeks. Why they had tried that first Iolaus couldn't understand because it sounded like the second amulet was far easier to acquire. It turned out to be located in a temple nearby, a temple dedicated to the goddess Hera. It was the unanimous opinion of everyone in the Rooster's Tail Tavern that the temple amulet was the one to try for on this last ditch attempt, since attacking the monster hadn't gone very well.

The job, as Immodius, the speaker, described it, was to lead a group of the healthier men including Immodius to the Temple down the road, get inside, and bring the amulet back to this town which, by the way, was known as Baker's Field.

            "Why is that?" Iolaus asked. "How did your town get its name?"

            "My granny used to bake the greatest sugar cookies," Immodius sighed. "Even Zeus used to drop by and pick up a dozen or so on a Sunday afternoon to take back to the Nine Muses."

            "She still doing it?"

            "Not hardly. Died about twenty years ago."

            "And you still call this place Baker's Field?"

            "Gotta be known for something. Better for Granny's baking than for some things I could mention. Cow dung, for example."

            "What's the catch?"

            Immodius looked puzzled. "There is no catch. We cleaned up the cow dung long ago. And the cows are all dead, so no more cow dung."

            "No, no, I mean getting the amulet. Why haven't you done it before now?"

            "Oh. That. We can't get into the Temple."

            "Why not?"

            "It's guarded."

            "Most Temples are," Iolaus observed. "What's it guarded by?"

            "Bunch of dogs."

            "Two-headed? Three?"

            "Nope. Just one head. Filled with teeth. Lots of teeth."

            "Anything else?"

            "They've got tails. Not too much fur."

            "No, I mean, is the Temple guarded by anything more than the dogs?" This was getting tiresome.

            "Not that we know of. Course, it could be. We've never gotten past the dogs. Never needed to before this."

            Iolaus grinned. He had the answer to the first part of their task. As for the rest of the Temple, they'd just have to wing it. As usual.

*          *          *

            Not bad. Not bad at all. Hercules, the son of Zeus, leaned back against the rough-hewn bar in the Bull's Horn Tavern and sipped at his beer. Lovely town, no real trouble to speak of, well run market place that didn't have some maniac trying to burn it down. Hercules had had a few too many of those recently. He'd appreciated the time off, enjoyed the time spent with a few of his cousin nymphs and satyrs for a couple of days.

            He supposed it was time to get back to the task of saving the world from itself and a few associated gods and goddesses, but he wasn't in any real hurry for Iolaus to show up. His best friend had likewise taken a few days off in the opposite direction, and they'd agreed to meet here in Down Town. That was it, just 'Down Town'. Hercules supposed that the name had something to do with the place being situated in a deep ravine. Nice place, but wouldn't want to be around when the flood waters were rising. Pretty little village, with a bunch of bright torches to chase away the darkness after Apollo took the his chariot out of the sky for the night. Lots of shops; Hercules debated whether or not to purchase that bolt of silk and send it to his mother, and decided against it. The last three bolts had been given away to the poor. Alcmene always said she had too many clothes as it was; kept running out of closet space.

            So for the present, the order of business was to drink beer, relax, and wait for Iolaus to catch up with him.

            Until someone flung open the door to the Bull's Horn Tavern and screamed, "they're coming!"

            One usually didn't hear that particular note of panic, Hercules observed, unless there was a real emergency. Being Hercules, he offered to help. Being Hercules, with a certain level of notoriety in these parts, his help was instantly accepted.

            'They' turned out to be a gang of thieves, bent on stealing a precious amulet from the temple that Down Town had erected in honor of Hera along the road out of town.

            "Won't the dogs stop them?" asked one man.

            "No, no! There are too many of them! We must fight to protect what is ours!"

            "Isn't that dangerous?"

            "Wouldn't losing the amulet to those ruffians be _more_ dangerous?"

            Which is how Hercules found himself jogging along with several other men of the Down Town village, following the head man named Penurious. Someone shoved a bow and quiver of arrows into his hands; Hercules looked at the weapon with distaste. He could use it well enough, but shooting arrows from a distance left a feeling of discomfort. Hercules preferred to do his fighting close at hand, where his opponent had an equal opportunity to inflict as much damage as Hercules. This long distance, hiding away from your enemy sort of thing seemed, well, _sneaky_.

            But the enemy was going to be sneaky as well. They were attempting to rob the Temple at dusk, when it was most difficult to see. Hercules had no love for Hera or any of her temples, but stealing was wrong no matter what. These people of Down Town had asked for his help in defending their temple, and Hercules was resolved to do his best.

            The temple was built much as Hercules had expected: large stone walls with a wooden roof to protect the treasures inside. It was larger than most that Hercules had seen, with towers and battlements, perfect for defense. Penurious and the people of Down Town had clearly spent a great deal of time and effort erecting this monument to Hera and even though Hercules bore little love for Zeus's wife he could appreciate the resources that had gone into this building.

            His first shock was upon arrival.

            "Where are the dogs?" Hercules asked.

            "There." 

            A swarm of what appeared to be rats rustled out in the fading sunlight. Hercules drew back until the yipping got closer. He looked down. "These are dogs?"

            'These' were the smallest dogs that Hercules had ever seen. They were smaller even than rats, and furless. Little tails wagged back and forth furiously, and big eyes bulged out of oversized foreheads. The miniature dogs danced back and forth, nipping at his ankles, darting away before anyone could grab any part of them. One, friendlier than the others, leaped up into Penurious' arms and snuggled there.

            "These are your guard dogs?" Hercules couldn't believe it.

            "Sure. Noisy, fearless, and cost a lot less to feed than a bunch of Rottweilers. Easier to clean up after, too. Got 'em from a group of Aztecs, passing through on their way back across the Atlantic Ocean."

            Hercules shrugged. Penurious had a point. A couple of 'em, actually. He settled down to hide inside the main altar room with the rest of the Down Towners to wait for the thieves to arrive.

*          *          *

            "Vicious," Immodius said. "The guard dogs are vicious. They go for your ankles, try to hamstring you so that you fall and can't walk. Then they bite your face."

            Iolaus shuddered. The guard dogs sounded horrible. Good thing he was prepared. He opened his sack, handing out little sachels to the others who had come along with him.

            One by one, they silently tossed the bags close to the walls of the temple. The sachels hit with little plops. In the dimness of sunset Iolaus could see a swarm of rats issue forth, could hear a little yipping in the background. He cursed. "The rats are getting there first! We're ruined!"

            "What are you talking about, Iolaus? Those are the dogs!"

            Iolaus stared. Those were the smallest dogs he'd ever seen in his life, and certainly nothing to be afraid of. He could kick three away with one foot tied behind his back. "Are you serious?"

            "Very! Nasty little creatures, they are!"

            Dogs or rats, Iolaus' plan was working. The little bags contained bits of meat laced with a sleeping powder. Within minutes, the horrible little yipping creatures had all settled down for a nice long nap.

            "C'mon," Iolaus hissed to Immodius and the others. "Hurry, before the sleeping powder wears off." Then he stopped himself. "By the way, have you ever just _asked_ those people if you could borrow the amulet? Just to get back on your feet?"

            "Are you kidding? Those people are just plain horrid! Look at the guard dogs that they got to keep us out of Hera's Temple! Is that any way to treat friendly neighbors?"

            Iolaus sighed. There were some serious communication issues going on here. He motioned for them to proceed. The group scurried forward, breeching the front gates with no canines to deny them entrance, pulling the great doors open with a great deal of creaking and groaning. Iolaus winced; he really hoped that there was no one else home, because there was no way that anyone could have missed the noise that the people of Baker's Field were making. A deaf man would have heard the rumbling in his feet. They slipped inside the temple, past the massive front pillars and into the great room where the altar sat, tripping over their feet only fourteen times.

            "Where's the amulet?" Iolaus asked in a hushed voice. _Why bother with quiet? It's not as though they couldn't hear us coming._

            Immodius pointed. "Over there."

            'Over there' was a small alcove beyond the altar. The alcove glittered with gems and gold even in the slender flickerings of candlelight cast by the fat white taper on the altar. Iolaus could barely see the amulet dangling from a chain in the center of the tiny alcove but by the way the lights danced as the amulet swayed in the still air, he knew that it was there.

            Still Iolaus hesitated. "Any traps between here and the amulet?"

            "None that we know of."

            "But you said that you'd never gotten this far before."

            "Which means that we don't know if there are any more traps here or not. You want honesty, or not?"

            Iolaus bit his tongue trying to keep something unsaid. Immodius was doing the best he could. "All right," he said finally. "You and the others stay here. I'm going to make my way across the floor. I can be quieter than you, so just watch. If anything happens, do whatever you think is best."

            "Like what?"

            Iolaus bit his tongue again. Hercules would never have these questions thrown at him. Why was Iolaus always the lucky one? "Like, if a monster comes out of the wall at me, attack it. Save me. I'd really appreciate something like that." He hoped it didn't come out too sarcastically and if it did, that Immodius couldn't understand the sarcasm.

            "Got it. What if a lot of warriors attack?"

            "You can fight them, too," Iolaus reassured him, wondering if this whole plan was such a good idea. _You could have simply walked out of town and joined up with Hercules Down Town_, he reminded himself. He smiled thinly. "You don't have a lot to lose," he told Immodius. "People back home are dying. Go ahead and attack the warriors back."

            Immodius nodded grimly. _That_ got through. The others took a firmer grasp on their staves. All except for one man, who accidentally let his staff clatter to the floor. He picked it back up with a sheepish look.

*          *          *

            "They're coming," Penurious whispered, secure in his hiding spot behind the choir stalls. Normally he despised the choir stalls; the choir was made up of only shrieking sopranos, and the noise hurt his ears. It was so bad that he'd quietly made arrangements for baffling walls to be put up, to muffle the sound of their singing. This now worked in Penurious' favor. It covered over his whisperings to Hercules and the rest of the defending party from Down Town. "Quiet, everyone. Get ready."

            It was true. Hercules could barely make out the advancing group that sidled through the front gates and into the great room. They paused there, as if to get their bearings and determine their next move.

            There was a bare half dozen of them and of those only one knew what he was doing. Only the smallish one had had the sense to cover his bright yellow hair with a dark cloth to stay better hidden, and who moved with stealth. The others tromped around like grape-stompers making wine. That small one, Hercules realized, would be the one to be stopped. He might not be the leader of the group, but he was clearly the one in charge.

            Penurious recognized the danger as well, for he whispered, "let your arrows fly true, my brothers, at that one. If we kill him, the others will flee in terror. Take aim."

            The thieves came to a decision. A good one, Hercules thought, for only the clever one advanced across the floor, testing his steps against some creak of a floor board, some hidden trap or misstep. He made slow progress, but steady, looking all around him for signs of something about to go wrong.

            Penurious sneezed. The clever thief froze. Hercules could see the man's eyes widen in fear; the thief knew that they had been discovered.

            There was no time to wait. Hercules rose from his hiding spot and shouted, "Fire!"

            Arrows shrilled through the air at the thief, falling to the floor all around him. Penurious' men were as effective with their weapons as they were with their guard dogs. But one arrow, the arrow from Hercules' bow, flew straight and true. It sank home in the clever thief's mid-section, dropping him to the floor.

            "Attack!" Hercules yelled. "Drive the thieves away!"

*          *          *

            Hercules had to admit, it was a magnificent celebration in Down Town. Every household contributed, bringing out their favorite foods, their best wines, to celebrate the victory over the thieves. Hercules shuddered as loud praises were sent up in Hera's name, but swallowed it manfully. Even Hera was a goddess, and deserved the reverence due to her. It wasn't Down Town's fault that Hera had a bone to pick with Zeus, and that Hercules was the object of her displeasure.

            He also had to admit that he was getting a bit worried. Iolaus should have shown up by now. A few hours late, sure. But this was going on more than a day, and Iolaus knew that they had places to be.

            "Don't go," Penurious implored him. "You are our hero! You saved us with that wondrous arrow! If we still had the arrow, we'd bronze it and put it up in a place of honor in Hera's Temple."

            Hercules winced. He could just see Hera finding an arrow dedicated to Hercules in her temple. Hercules would never hear the end of it and neither would Zeus, which meant that Hercules would get it from both sides. "That's all right," he said hastily. "I'm not much for dedications. Listen, are you certain that no one has seen my friend? He was supposed to arrive here yesterday."

            "Any friend of Hercules is a friend of the entire Down Town," Penurious simpered. "No one has seen him, but when we do we shall carry him to you upon our shoulders."

            _And wouldn't Iolaus enjoy that?_ "Thanks, but I think I need to go look for him," he said firmly.

            "You don't want us to come along with you, right?"

            "Right." The fear in Penurious's eye vanished. Hercules hurried on. "I'm going to head on down the road, in the direction that Iolaus should be coming through. If he gets here, tell him where I've gone."

            "Most certainly, Hercules! Most certainly. Anything for Hercules, son of Zeus."

*          *          *

            Hercules handed the basket of bread and cheese and fruit to the travelers that he passed on the road out of Down Town. The grateful citizenry had pressed more food on him than even he could carry, and he took the opportunity to give up carrying it as soon as he possibly could. The weight would surely have slowed him down.

            Worry also weighed on him. Where could Iolaus be? His friend had gone to see some old friends, real friends, not those who might pretend to friendship and then stab him in the back. There was always the possibility that Iolaus had simply forgotten the time, though two days late seemed excessive even for Iolaus.

            But the day was warm and sunny, and it was impossible to stay down-hearted on this pleasant journey through rich and ripening fields, through orchards blooming with flowers that were certain to turn into some of the bountiful fruit such as he had just given away. His step was light, and he made good time, pausing only to eye the Temple cautiously. A few of the tiny hairless dogs came out to yap at him, but he could tell that their hearts weren't in it. The others inside were saying the small dog equivalent of, "shut up, already! I've got a hangover!"

            But a few leagues down the road, the scenery changed. There were still fields and orchards, but the prosperity on the other side of the Temple was not echoed here. Brown crops were turning into dust, and the flowers hung from the orchard branches like withered shreds of torn clothing. Little would grow here. Hercules wondered what had happened to these poor villagers, which god or goddess they had offended to have such a woeful growing season. He sighed. After he'd found Iolaus, maybe he ought to return to Down Town and ask for some charity. With his newfound heroism, he ought to be able to squeeze out a bit of food for these poor souls.

            The town itself was just as dismal, if not more so. People walked with their eyes downcast, not giving him more than a passing glance. This puzzled Hercules. Not that he was vain, but someone with his size and obvious strength usually garnered more than his share of sideways looks, from the ladies if no one else. He tried stopping one man to inquire after Iolaus; the man plodded on without answering. He tried another; same thing.

            Hercules straightened up. "This is ridiculous."

            "Got it in one, coz."

            Hercules whirled around. A vision of fluttery loveliness stood in front of him, showing more flesh and curves than any mortal woman could. That was all right, because the speaker wasn't mortal.

            "Aphrodite. What are you doing here? Is this—" and Hercules gestured to the town falling down around them, "—your doing? Did they mow down a flower that you had your heart set on?"

            Aphrodite put a set of perfectly manicured nails to her face. "Hercules, you wound me! How could you think so poorly of me?"

            "'Cause it's happened before, Aphrodite. Somebody ticks you off, you scorch some earth around them."

            Aphrodite started to pout, then stopped. Hercules was right. She grinned, and it was as if Apollo had decided to do zero to sixty across the sky, her smile was that bright. "Yeah, but it wasn't me this time. It was Hera."

            "I might have known. What did they do?"

            Aphrodite put on a lovely frown, but it was wasted on her cousin. Hercules was immune to her charms. "Oh, you know old poopy-head Hera. Takes offense over everything." She thought for a moment. "I think it had something to do with one of her peacocks stepping in it."

            "Stepping in what, Aphrodite?"

            "Stepping in _it_, Hercules. You know. _It_."

            "No, I don't know, Aphrodite. What are you talking about?"

            "Cow dung," Aphrodite explained. She shuddered. "Gooey, sticky, yucky cow dung. All over the blue peacock feathers. I mean, I know that peacocks aren't the brightest crayons in the box, I mean they are but we're talking brains here and not they way they look, but you'd think these people could keep the cows out of the way. Put them in the barn or something."

            Hercules stared at her. All that in a single breath, and minimal sense besides. "Are you here to tell me that this town is cursed because one of Hera's birds stepped on a cow patty?"

            "No, coz." Aphrodite got exasperated in turn. "I am here to tell you that you'd better hurry up and take care of my little sweetcheeks, because if Hades takes him I am going to be very pissed! And since it's _your_ fault that he's like that, I am going to be very pissed with _you_!" And with that, she vanished in a swirl of glittering lights.

            Hercules groaned. Figuring out what Aphrodite was trying to tell him was going to be a challenge. Some gods were just naturally obtuse; Aphrodite took it to an art form.

            All right; start from the top. The town was cursed. Okay, Hercules could get behind that. This place looked plenty cursed. Curse from Hera? Also likely. The old witch was known for tossing curses around by the handful. The stuff about peacocks sounded a little far-fetched, but then Hera never really needed a reason for dealing out the misery. Sometimes she just liked to see mortals squirm. Heck, Hera liked to see _Hercules_ squirm.

            Okay, he'd figured out the first part of Aphrodite's message. He didn't think she'd said anything about how to lift the curse, but maybe she didn't know. Then there was the part about hurrying. That probably had to do with lifting the curse, especially since she'd mentioned Hades. Hades was a nice sort of fellow, a little preoccupied with his job sometimes, but decent enough. Lift the curse, and Hades would leave these folks alone to live out their lives in peace. Maybe Hades knew how to lift the curse? Hercules could always ask him.

            Wait a minute—Aphrodite had said something about 'sweetcheeks'. Hercules began to get a very bad feeling. 'Sweetcheeks' could refer to some token or other that could be used to lift the curse. But Aphrodite had a soft spot in her heart for a certain blond sidekick. A certain blond sidekick who was late to their meeting. And she'd said for Hercules to hurry up and find her sweetcheeks…

            Hercules grabbed the next man to walk by. "I'm looking for my friend."

            "As are we all, in this farce of an existence," the man told him. "A last moment or two in the arms of a mistress before this cursed death o'ercomes us all—"

            "Stop with the poetry," Hercules said with irritation. "It doesn't even rhyme, and I _so_ don't have time for this. I'm looking for my friend, Iolaus. Have you seen him? Kind of short, blond hair, chipper to a fault?"

            The man smiled sadly. "Yes, I've seen him. But I fear that he will not be much comfort to you in these last hours, though you may possibly comfort him."

            The little pool of lava-laced worry in the pit of his stomach threatened to erupt into a major volcanic explosion. "Where is he?"

*          *          *

            Hades looked at the sundial outside the hut, letting the curtain fall back into place and block the sunlight. "You're making me late for the performance of 'The Rites of Spring'," he complained. He paced back and forth in the small and dark room. The only furniture was a rude table and stool, and the straw pallet that Iolaus lay upon. Even the window was shuttered, refusing entrance to the afternoon light.  "Persephone is gonna kill me. And considering that I'm the God of the Underworld, that's going some."

            "Sorry." It was hard to think over the agony squirting out of his mid-section, Iolaus found. There was a piece of straw sticking up from the pallet into his back, annoying to lie on, but he couldn't summon the energy to get up and move around to relieve it. The old woman who was tottering around the room, oblivious to Hades' presence, looked at him incuriously, wondering who he was seeing before he died.

            "You could hurry it up."

            "Don't rush me," Iolaus said peevishly. "I've still got things to do, people to see."

            "Nope. All canceled. Gonna have a nice eulogy, though. I'll coach Hercules through it, if you like. Anybody in particular you'd like to see mentioned?"

            "Don't do me any favors," Iolaus muttered. "Wait a minute; _do_ me a favor."

            "What?"

            "Leave."

            Hades looked at the sundial again. "Okay. You'll regret it, though."

            "I don't think so."

            "I do. Belly wounds like that are killers. I mean, they hurt like the Mother of All Monsters, and you take a few days to die. Fevers, hallucinations, even some throwing up blood now and then. I was gonna help you out a bit, let you avoid all the pain and agony stuff. I mean, you are a friend of Hercules, after all. But if you don't want to take advantage of this once in a lifetime offer…"

            "Thanks. I'll pass."

            "Pass what?" the woman asked suspiciously. "You hallucinating?"

            Iolaus closed his eyes. It felt better that way. Or it would if he could convince himself that it did. "Yeah. Hallucinating."

            "You're going to die from this," she said matter-of-factly. "Why don't you hurry up? I can use the bed for someone else."

            Iolaus levered open his eyes to glare at her. "You working for him, now?" He jerked his thumb at Hades. Even that little gesture hurt, and he had to pause to take yet another painful breath, the air rasping in and out over dried-up tonsils.

            "Who?"

            Iolaus remembered that a mere mortal couldn't see Hades until he was ready to die. This woman didn't qualify. Though she probably would before too long, if she stayed in this town for the curse to get her. "Never mind," he muttered, closing his eyes once again. "Go away."

            "Her, or me?" asked Hades.

            "You." The voice was a new one, strong and harsh with worry, and the gargantuan shadow of the man darkened the room further. Iolaus didn't have to open his eyes to identify the voice; he would have known it anywhere. Hercules kept on going. "You are so out of here, Hades."

            Hades shook his head. "You know he's in bad straits, coz. Sorry to tell you this, but there isn't much hope here." Then he quirked his eyebrows. "You're aware that this is your fault?"

            "My fault? How is it my fault?"

            Hades gestured to the table. On it lay a long and thin arrow, the tip blood-stained and gory. "Recognize that?"

            Hercules stiffened.

            "Thought so. Good shooting, by the way. Nice to know you haven't forgotten everything I taught you about bows and arrows. Those other jokers couldn't hit the broad side of a barn."

            Hercules turned to his best friend, horror-stricken. "Iolaus…" he whispered.

            "Herc?" Iolaus coughed, the movement sending spasms of pain wracking through him. "That was you? Should have known it—no one else can shoot as straight as you."

            "What were you doing there, trying to steal the amulet?"

            Iolaus laughed bitterly. "Take a look around, Herc. These are good people. They don't deserve Hera's curse."

            "But, Iolaus—stealing? Why didn't they just ask for it?"

            Iolaus thought for a moment. He coughed harshly, a spot of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. "Good question, Herc. Why weren't you here to ask it?" He coughed again, the sound turning into an inadvertent groan, and Hercules hastened to settle his friend more comfortably on the straw pallet.

            Hercules turned back to Hades. "I'm not joking, Hades. You can't have him."

            "Not up to you, Hercules. There's a little thing called a curse around here. Not too many things get better with the curse flowing."

            "I know. I've seen it. Outside there, inside here. How do I lift it? How can I help Iolaus?"

            Hades nodded thoughtfully. "Only way you can save Iolaus is to a) get him out of town and out of range of the curse which you can't do because if you move him, he'll die. Or b) you can get the amulet from Hera's Temple, which you won't do because if you take the amulet from Down Town's temple they'll be in the same fix as Baker's Field. And you're too much of a goody two-sandals to save your friend by dooming another entire village." Hades shrugged his shoulders. "You might as well let me take him now, save him a world of hurt."

            "Not a chance, Hades. There must be another way."

            "There is, Herc." Iolaus clutched at Hercules' arm, oblivious to the pain that it caused him. "There's another amulet."

            "Hey," Hades objected. "You're not supposed to know about that."

            "What are you talking about?" Iolaus grumped. "The whole town knows it."

            "Boy, when I find out who spilled the casaba beans—"

            "Tough," Hercules said. "Where is it, Iolaus? I'll get it."

            "It was stolen from us by a horrible monster," the old woman put in. The group had finally said something that she could follow without hearing Hades' responses. "No one has seen it in over a year."

            "You know where it is?" Hercules demanded.

            "Don't tell him," Hades immediately said.

            "Shut up, Hades."

            "Hades is around here?" The woman looked around her fearfully. She pointed at Iolaus. "It's him you want. Not me."

            "Gee, thanks, lady."

            Hercules had had enough. "You. Hades. Out. Now."

            Hades smirked. "See you later, Iolaus." He winked out.

            "Not if I can help it," Iolaus muttered in return.

            "Now you." Hercules turned to the old woman. "Where's the amulet?"

            "Is he gone?"

            "Yes, Hades is gone." Hercules suppressed his impatience. "Tell me about the other amulet."

            "Well, it was stolen from us by this horrible monster who lives in the woods far far away from here…"

*          *          *

            All right, so the old lady considered a single mile to be far far away. Hercules didn't—it barely qualified as a short walk—but that was beside the point. The real issue was to defeat the monster, retrieve the amulet, and restore Baker's Field to its pre-cursed condition. And, incidentally, save Iolaus' life.

            He flexed the muscles in his arms. He couldn't afford to have anything not working in top form, not if he intended to win. And Hercules intended to have that amulet for Baker's Field at all costs.

            The old woman's directions were flawless. There was a small hut in front of the entrance to the cave, a building that looked as though it were about to fall down on any inhabitants unfortunate enough to reside there. Hercules stopped to knock at the door, then hesitated. One solid knock, and the whole thing might collapse. Not a good way to start.

            He ended up tapping gently. "Hello, inside! Anybody home?"

            "Yeah. Who's asking?"

            "Hercules, son of Zeus."

            "Well, Hercules, son of Zeus, you should go away right now." The door remained shut.

            Hercules sighed, and begged the gods for patience. "I can't do that."

            "You in a hurry to see Hades?"

            "Been there, done that," Hercules muttered under his breath, then raised his voice. "I'm here to get the amulet from the monster."

            "Nobody's ever been able to do that before. Lots of men died trying."

            "I don't have much of a choice," Hercules said regretfully. "Listen, can you open the door? It's kind of awkward talking to you through it."

            The door flew open, and an old man stood there, leaning on a crooked cane. In fact, everything about him was crooked: his legs, his teeth, even his smile. "All you had to do was ask, sonny. Come on in, come on in," he cackled.

            Still Hercules hesitated. There wasn't much time. Iolaus was dying, as was the rest of Baker's Field. "Do you know anything about the monster? What I'll be facing?"

            "A bit."

            Hercules allowed himself to be persuaded. He followed the old man into the hut, noting the dilapidated furniture that the old man possessed. There were two chairs and a table heaped with dirty dishes. The fireplace was cold, not that it was such a chilly spring day but Hercules thought that a bit of warmth would have felt good for this old man's bones. He eyed the chairs doubtfully; neither one looked as though it could support the demi-god's weight. "Is it safe to sit on?"

            The old man grinned. "Go ahead, sonny. It's not going to collapse on you."

            Hercules wasn't convinced, and he postponed the issue. "How about a fire? Shall I build one for you?"

            "That'd be right fine, young man. You go ahead, and be thanked for it."

            It didn't take long enough, and the falling down chair was still waiting. "How about the dishes? Shall I clear those away?" Anything to keep from having to sit down and break the chair. And break his pride.

            "Helpful sort, aren't you? Be my guest."

            "I am," Hercules said under his breath.

            The chair still waited. One leg obligingly demonstrated a crack lengthwise up one leg. It couldn't wait any longer.

            "Are you sure that I won't break it?" Hercules asked one last time.

            "Go ahead, sonny. You'll be fine."

            Hercules eased himself into the chair. It creaked, but held. He relaxed gingerly, letting out his breath. Still, the chair didn't break.

            "Now, aren't you glad you sat down?"

            "Glad it didn't fall apart," Hercules responded. "That would be a poor way to thank your hospitality. Now, what about this monster? I've spent enough time here, pleasant though it was, and my friend is dying."

            "I think you've got the jist of the problem, friend."

            "That he's dying?"

            "No. How to deal with the monster."

            "You haven't told me anything."

            "I just did."

            "What did you tell me? I guess I wasn't listening."

            "I told you how to deal with the monster."

            "How?"

            "By asking questions."

            "No, I mean, how do I deal with the monster?"

            "By asking questions."

            "But I just did that."

            "That's right."

            "Did you tell me how?"

            "Yup."

            "How?"

            "By asking questions."

            Hercules sent up a silent prayer for patience to Haephestus. Not that Haephestus was any too patient himself, but at least he was strong. And right now Hercules needed some of that strength to keep from shouting at the old man.

            "Are you going to tell me how to defeat the monster?"

            "No."

            "But—" Hercules reviewed the last few lines they had exchanged. He re-worded his question, trading it in for a questioning statement. "But you did tell me how to deal with the monster."

            "Now you're catching on, sonny."

            "Right." Hercules sighed. This was worse than Aphrodite at her most obscure. Hercules prudently decided to cut his losses. This was taking too much time, time that Iolaus didn't have. "Thank you, grandfather, for your wisdom. I will give your words all the consideration they deserve." There. Hercules could be obscure when he wanted to, too.

            "You're a smart kid," the old man allowed. "Git along with ya'. Go get that amulet for your friend."

            The monster, Hercules came to the conclusion, had probably tried to eat the old man and spit him out as too bitter to enjoy. That was the only explanation for how the old man managed to survive at the mouth of a monster's cave.

            Then Hercules paused; a thought struck him. Maybe not; perhaps the old man had figured out a way to live here in this hut despite the monster's presence in the cave. The oldster had said that he'd told Hercules how to defeat the monster. No, not _defeat_ it; the man had been very clear on that point. He'd told Hercules how to _deal_ with the monster.

            Hercules sighed. Figuring out what the old man had actually told him was going to be worse than trying to understand Aphrodite in front of a mirror. There were just some things that demi-gods weren't meant to know. That was why Hercules always asked questions.

            A light bulb went off in Hercules' head, which was exceedingly strange since light bulbs hadn't yet been invented.

*          *          *

            "My fault?" Iolaus' protest didn't have the usual outrage behind it, but it was a lot stronger than it would have been a mere two days ago, and Hercules felt a great deal of relief. Iolaus would be up and walking around again in no time. "How is this my fault?"

            "That's the way to go about it, Iolaus. Ask questions. Politely."

            "I'm relapsing," Iolaus groaned. "You're talking, Herc, but you're not making sense. What questions should I be asking?"

            "Oh, stuff like 'may I borrow your amulet for a while?' Ever try that?"

            "I'm always asking questions, Herc. Smart ones, stupid ones—"

            "But you never asked the people of Down Town if you could borrow their amulet."

            Iolaus stared. "But they never would have let me."

            "How do you know that?" At Iolaus' lack of a response and jaw drooping open, Hercules moved on. "It was the old man who helped me figure it out. Ask questions, he said. So I did."

            "Then you fought the monster."

            "Nope. Didn't have to."

            "Somebody got there first, and you asked them for the amulet, and they gave it to you."

            "Nope. Guess again."

            "Not in the mood, Herc." Iolaus sank back onto his pallet. This time the straw didn't dig into his back. "How did you get the amulet?"

            "I asked the monster very politely to borrow it."


End file.
